Just One Day
by katietheunicorn
Summary: While Castle and Beckett deal with a very early, rude awakening and a case going nowhere, there's also something else to think about...
1. Chapter 1

**November 17****th****, 2012.**

**6:04 A.M**

Yawning, Beckett rolled over in bed and stretched out her arm towards the nightstand, only for her skin to be assaulted by the cool air. However, the high-pitched screech coming from her phone was far more violent, so she continued to reach for it, then brought it into her cocoon of covers, outside of which not a single wavy strand of hair could be seen.

"Beckett," she answered the phone groggily.

"Body's dropped," Esposito said bluntly. He, too, sounded tired. "Seventy-Fifth and Lex."

"I'll be right there," murmured Kate, but he'd already hung up.

Rising from her palace of warmth, she stretched out and heard her back click, before opening her wardrobe and grabbing the first items she laid eyes on – a dark pair of jeans and a black v-neck sweater – and making for the front door, digging out a black pair of chunky heels to pull on as she descended the stairs in her building.

It was cold outside, and before she went anywhere Beckett fished her leather jacket out from under the Kevlar in the trunk, pulling it on gratefully. She even dug her leather gloves out from the glove compartment.

Sleepily, Beckett followed the roads north to Seventy-Fifth and parked up a few buildings down from the crime scene, which was possibly identifiable from the moon given all the blue and whites that were here. Must be something important, Beckett thought.

Beckett badged her way under the tape and up the stairs to the apartment, which was crawling with officers.

"Why are so many of you here?" she asked the officer on the door.

"Thin walls," he said. "Seven different tenants here called in shots fired and the operators couldn't keep up."

"I see," Beckett yawned.

The scene was fairly run-of-the-mill – a light, airy apartment with minimal furnishings and little space, blood on the rug, and a dead guy with three to the chest.

"Morning, Beckett," Ryan greeted her. "This here's Sam Gregory; there are shell casings here for a .38 but no gun, CSU have picked up a few fibres and they've taken prints, but only from two people, so it's not likely any of 'em match our killer."

"OK. Canvassed the area?"

"The uniforms are on it. Figured they may as well stay and help."

"Um, alright, I'll go downtown and start up a board, dig up what I can on the victim." Beckett turned for the door.

**6:30 A.M**

"Hey," came a far-too-cheerful-for-half-six-on-a-Saturday-morning greeting from across Kate's desk, at which she sat rubbing her temples.

"Oh, hey, Castle," Beckett murmured.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just didn't get to sleep till late last night and I forgot I called you."

Castle moved around the desk and sat in his usual spot, shrugging off his jacket and slinging it over the metal arm of his faded orange chair. He offered her his hand under the cover of the desk. She smiled and took it gratefully. They shook.

"So, what have we got?" Castle asked, not letting go of her hand.

"Shooting. Close-range – there are muzzle burns – but not expert; you see how far apart they are?"

"Yeah. Theories?"

"Nothing so far."

Castle thought for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak.

Kate interrupted, "Don't say mob hit after I told you it was sloppy."

He thought again. Opened his mouth again.

"Ditto spies."

He gave in at last and laughed, not only at his predictability, at his far-fetched idea, but also he laughed because she knew him so well, and he was almost as in love with that as he was with her.

"I think you need some coffee, love," he said softly, radiating kindness, his blue eyes aglow.

Kate smiled and led the way to the break room, where she sat on the couch and proper her feet up on the coffee table, flicking through the victim's priors. "Sam Gregory, thirty-eight. He's been charged with money laundering, fraud, theft. You name it. But he's never hurt anyone."

"No," Castle said sarcastically, "he just stole all their life savings and ruined their lives." He proceeded to hand Kate her cup with a pleasant smile, which was echoed by her when she looked down and saw the heart shape he'd drawn with the foam.

Castle sat down beside Kate and began to twirl a piece of her hair as they sipped and she read, quickly dropping the silken strands when a uniformed officer wandered past the window in the door. As Kate continued to pursue the file, her eyebrows and nose crinkled in her own adorable way as it usually did when she was thinking hard about something. Castle reached across and smoothed it out, taking her by surprise. When her startled look soon faded, she looked up and smiled at him before swivelling her head and kissing his hand where it had rested on her cheek.

They gazed into each other's eyes a moment longer, before a movement caught Castle's eye near Kate's desk.

"Esposito and Ryan are back," Castle said as he stood, helping Kate up by holding her hand softly, then they wandered over to where two very tired looking detectives settled into their respective desks.

"Lanie has the body," Esposito declared.

"No trace in the apartment building," Ryan informed them with equal succinctness.

"Don't worry boys, we can clock off early today," Beckett told them.

"Oh, don't worry, we will be," Esposito had clearly already thought of this.

"Heard you caught a body?" a commanding voice asked from the elevator as Captain Gates made her way towards them.

"Yes, sir, a shooting in an apartment building up on seventy-fifth," Beckett told her, trying to stifle a yawn which at last made itself known once she'd finished speaking.

"Have you informed next of kin?"

"Uh, we're still looking for family, it doesn't look like he has any," Ryan piped up.

"OK, well, keep me posted," Gates said and walked to her office, where she, too, let a large yawn consume her face, making Castle and Beckett giggle at the idea of her tough-as-nails demeanour cracking slightly.

The three detectives and the writer sat quietly for a few moments, all of them slowly waking up. Ryan stretched out his back. Esposito rubbed a hand across his jaw, assessing the stubble situation. Castle stroked his hair. Beckett clicked her pen. The clock ticked. LT came walking by, clocking off the night shift. Computers hummed. Beckett clicked her pen faster.

"OK, I'm going to see Lanie," Kate said at last, worried the silence and the echoed thought of _what do we do now _would consume her.

"Good idea," Castle agreed and followed Katie to the elevator, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his jacket.

He was just glad for the opportunity to hold her hand as they decended.


	2. Chapter 2

**7:17 A.M**

"It is too early for this," Lanie complained as Kate and Castle pushed through the doors into the morgue, but she allowed herself a smile when she saw their entwined fingers. Kate smiled back at her.

"What can you tell us?" Kate asked as she gazed into Sam Gregory's thoracic cavity, open and empty.

"I pulled the slugs," Laine said, offering her friend a clear bag containing squashed metal pellets. "But we already know they're .38s from the shell casings. Still, I'll have ballistics look at 'em, see if they can isolate a gun."

"Alright." Kate said. This had been a pretty disappointing start to an investigation. "Traces?"

"Actually, there is something there," Lanie said. Much to their surprise, there were some residues to be analysed. "Some kind of red paint for wood," was number one. The next was "More of those fibres that Ryan found," followed by "A strange powder on his shirt," and "Some whacked-out gooey stuff," which translated as some form of gel deposit.

"This is a weird one," Lanie finally finished.

"Tell me about it," Castle agree.

They stood around the body quietly and Lanie began to sew, reuniting the flaps of skin across his chest.

Beckett sighed in her tiredness – she didn't usually start until nine on a Saturday – and leaned into Castle, who wrapped his arm around her in comfort.

"It's so _cute _when you two do that," Lanie teased, but Kate just smiled and stayed right where she was.

The fluorescent lights down in the morgue finally brought Kate to full alertness, their brightness casting a ghostly paleness on all of them, even mocha-toned Lanie Parish, as they stood with them beating down, highlighting the dust motes as they danced in the air.

Lanie finished off her stitching, then excused herself to wash up and change back into her street clothes before getting a report typed up for them, for which Kate and Castle decided to wait. She left through the swinging doors, leaving them alone.

Kate pivoted in his arms so they stood chest to chest, almost at eye level, and kissed him softly. He put both his arms around her waist, even slid them into her back pockets, making her giggle, and kissed her again, before withdrawing his hands, keeping them wrapped around her shoulders, swaying with her in a slow dance to music known only to them, her head resting on his shoulder, her hands pressed firmly against his back. When they heard Lanie shuffling along the linoleum, they at last parted; they stood across from each other, their two sets of tangled hands sealing them inside their own sweet bubble.

"Oh, you two," Lanie said with a grin and that ever-present hint of _I told you so _thick in her voice.

Castle was first to grin when her looked over at Lanie, before Kate chimed in with a cackle. "Cute PJs," she complemented her friend.

"Why, thank you," Laine replied with a wink and a swish of her hips, showing off the bunnies printed on pale pink fabric.

Lanie's report was typed up in no time, her template having already been loaded, and Castle and Beckett left for the precinct with a wave goodbye.

**7:42 A.M**

When the dynamic duo made it back to the homicide floor, they were greeted with something of a celebration as Ryan hung up the phone and high-fived Esposito.

"Found next of kin, a cousin, twice removed," Ryan explained.

"Is he coming in?" Beckett asked.

"Nope. Wanted me to "out and say it,"" he exaggerated a (poor) heavy Brooklyn accent. "So I told him and he said he wasn't surprised."

"Nice," Castle filled in.

"Yeah, turns out besides all those priors you found, Gregory's also been running for the Westies for the past two years."

"Which explains," a look of realisation crossed Beckett's face, "why after he served time he was down here almost every month, but his arrests completely dried up two years ago."

Castle thought back to when Kate's eyebrow had furrowed so adorably and decided that that two-year gap must have been the cause.

"We're chasing down the Westies now," Esposito explained, "One of my CIs said Finn Rourke's not at his pub; he left about an hour ago."

"OK... I'll tell Gates," Kate said and walked over to the captain's office.

**7:56 A.M**

"Hey," Kate said, joining Castle in the break room. "So, I was wondering if you wanted to get together tonight?"

"Sure thing," Castle said, pouring the jug of foam into his cup. "Anything special going on?"

"Uh, no. No," Kate replied, reaching for another cup.

"Oh, this is for you," Castle smiled and offered her his cappuccino.

"Thanks, Castle," she said and walked out without another word, her expression solid, almost unhappy. Castle decided not to question it.

As Beckett and Castle made it back with their second cups of coffee in the space of less than two hours, Espo and Ryan had just started to saddle up.

"Rourke?" Kate asked.

"We got him."

Coats were thown on, guns strapped in, Kevlar snapped into place.

"Whoa, Beckett, where's your vest?" Ryan put an arm out to stop her from leaving unprotected. Castle looked up from where he was zipping his coat up over his own body shield.

"Car," she said, then yelled, "Gates!"

The captain looked up from her computer screen in surprise.

"Rourke!" Beckett shouted, and Gates formed a ring with her thumb and forefinger to tell them all was well.

They charged for their cars, Ryan on the phone with dispatch to ask for backup to stand by, only in case Rourke wanted to make a scene, he explained, it could all be fine.

Once downstairs, Beckett put on her vest and they drove to the scene.

Before they got out of the car, Castle performed a ritual of his that had arisen just a few months before and which he performed every time the Kevlar came out.

He leaned across the space between the front seats and kissed Beckett ever so softly on the mouth.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she whispered right back.


	3. Chapter 3

**8:00 A.M**

The place they'd arrived at was a beaten-up old residence on the lower west side, almost completely windowless; what openings for sunlight there were contained only fragments as a reminder that they once contained glass. It altogether held threatening air to it, a _Do not enter _vibe, which Castle, being the writer, picked up on. Very strongly.

Castle suddenly felt quite vulnerable standing there in his WRITER vest.

A nearby blue-and-white pulled to a stop behind them, and Castle was reassured by their presence and also by the knowledge that there were more uniforms on standby. Even more comforting was the way Beckett brushed past him a little closer than necessary and gave him a hard look, discerning whether or not she thought he was alright. As she reached for the gun on her belt, she let her pinkie finger caress the heel of his hand.

"Finn Rourke! NYPD, open up!" Beckett called, bashing on a faded wooden door that would most likely have given her splinters were she not wearing those leather gloves.

Her gun hand was steady, trained on the door, and Ryan and Esposito stood flanking her nearby, all of them ready for anything.

Except this: "Well, good morning detectives, please, come in."

Beckett was too stunned to even put her gun down for a moment.

However, after a beat she holstered it and led the procession into a dimly lit room, Castle trailing at the back of the pack and the uniforms waiting outside, communicating with dispatch.

"Rourke what do you know about a Sam Gregory?" Beckett asked straight-up, no preamble.

"Aye, Sammy. He was new 'round here, little green. We just gave 'im the simple jobs," Rourke said.

"And what might those jobs entail?" Beckett asked, playing along with his confident demeanour, unsure what to believe.

"Ah, you know, cleanin' up after the boys, getting used to collecting what's owed. Even ran the bar form time to time," Rourke said very casually, as though he hadn't a care in the world.

"Anything to get him killed?" asked Beckett.

"Well, that'd depend on a killers motive, now, wouldn't it?"

"So he could have gotten into trouble?"

"Couldn't we all?"

Beckett was starting to get impatient. He was sidestepping all of her questions, trying not to implicate himself.

"Look, I have some respect, alright. I know if you'd whacked him we wouldn't have found him like that. We wouldn't have slugs or shell casings, people wouldn't have reported the shots and they wouldn't be so sloppy. So please just tell us where to go," Beckett said, resorting to flattery and a little asking nicely.

"Aye," Rourke said at last. "We had some trouble with those Mexicans a week back. Sammy got into the thick of it, took out one of their leads with two punches. He wasn't very happy."

While Rourke was hard to understand as words such as "had" became "'ad" and "those" became "'tose," Beckett got the gist and sighed.

"Thanks, Rourke."

"'Tis my pleasure," said the Irishman with a small dramatic bow.

The detectives and Castle left the building to return to daylight.

"Great," Beckett uttered, "now we have a gang war to deal with."

"I'm sorry?" Castle asked. "I missed most of that the guys at the back had baseball bats and they were clapping them in their hands and... yeah."

Castle shushed in response to Beckett's glare. "That's not all they were carrying," she cautioned him.

"So what now?" Espo wanted to know.

Beckett thought. She didn't want to get in deep with the gangs, there were too many things that could go wrong, and Castle wasn't trained for that kind of thing, what if he got...? Beckett looked over at Castle, leaning down to tie his shoe, and she smiled. But if she didn't talk to the gangs like Rourke had suggested she may not know why there were others there with the Westies in the first place, never mind the beating that followed their arrival.

But then it occurred to her – Rourke had given them the gang.

"OK, I think Rourke wants to know why the Mexicans are after him which is why he gave them to us – can you guys talk with the gang taskforce and ask them to run up everything on the Westies' altercations with other gangs over the past two months and then you need to go out and eat some breakfast."

"Yes, boss," Ryan said, while Esposito said, "Can do."

Beckett smiled and watched them go to their car before turning back to her own unmarked vehicle.

"So, Remy's?" she asked with a wink.

"You're the boss," Castle grinned, echoing Ryan's comment.

**8:23 A.M**

Breakfast burgers were certainly the highlight of this day so far, brimming with saturated fat and bucket-loads of calories. Kate thought it was the best thing ever.

Castle disagreed.

Because before him sat the most beautiful, intelligent, talented woman he knew. Truly remarkable in every way, if more than a little frustrating, it gave him an adrenaline rush, made his heart beat faster, just to sit across from her and watch her, watch the way she pushed her hair behind her ear, the way she wrinkled her nose as thoughts crossed her mind and the way her every feature softened when she looked up at him, like a teenage girl with her crush staring plainly at her.

"Are you OK, Castle?" she asked with a smile, curious as to what made him tick and furthermore why he watched her so closely.

"Never better," was the reply, and it wasn't a lie. It was cold out, it had even started to rain, he'd been woken before seven A.M. on a Saturday and he may just be killed by a gang member today, but all that was chased away by a greasy burger and a beauty akin to that found only in fairytales right opposite him, his.

His very own fairytale.

Burgers downed, coffee drained, Castle wiped the grease from his fingertips and reached across the plastic tabletop, interlocking his fingers with Kate's as she sipped the last of her cup's contents.

"Seriously, Castle, what's up? You're looking at me like you never saw a person before," she giggled a little.

"Nothing," he shrugged and smiled. "I just think you're the most perfect person I've ever seen," he replied, adapting her snide comment to a truthful admission.

She looked down, grinning and blushing, behaving like she was ten years younger sitting in her high school cafeteria.

"Come on," she said at last, "We have to cover for Espo and Ryan while they eat."

Together they stood and made their way to the door, Castle refusing to release her hand. Once they were outside she pulled it away so she could get her gloves on, and so her circled her waist, drawing her close to him to that walking was awkward but pleasant, and she was warmed through by the heat radiating from him.

The street was busy now, the eager shoppers rushing around them, but Kate and Rick ambled slowly along the sidewalk, relishing their time together, their own pocket of peace and serenity surrounded by a typical New York Saturday.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Here you go guys! I hope you like the update; it would have come sooner but I've had exams this week - gah! Please review, and give me any tips - I'am always open to advice. Also, thanks to everyone who's been reading; this story's popularity means a lot to me. :)**_

_**KT X**_

* * *

**9:14 A.M**

The case was moving slowly, to put it mildly.

Esposito and Ryan had been gone for a half an hour, so were due back sometime soon.

Castle sat linking paperclips together absentmindedly, watching the board as though her were waiting for one of the pictures to move. Beckett leaned against the end of her desk with her arms folded, moulding some Blu Tack in her hands as if by the very movement of it something substantial would miraculously appear, for which she could use the malleable putty to add something, anything, to the board.

When Kate's computer notified them that she had an e-mail, it was salvation to them both, and Castle shifted out of her computer chair and into his usual one. For once, she didn't mind.

"That's Gregory's financials," she stated and sat up straighter, relieved she finally had something to work with.

Castle leaned in to view what was on screen over her shoulder, then, inhaling deeper, leaned in a little closer. "You smell like cherries," he whispered and she smiled, remembering way back when she'd wanted to employ some of her hand-to-hand combat training after he'd commented on her scent. Now, she bopped her head to the side so it lightly bumped his, then bent forward so she could see her computer screen without the heady haze of Castle clouding her vision.

"There's no money," Castle observed.

"That's right..."

Beckett continued to peruse the figures, praying something would come up. "There!" she declared triumphantly. "He tried to make a payment and he tried to make it twice; both times it bounced."

"Making for one angry guy deprived of his riches. Wow, fifteen thousand dollars?"

"More like fifteen thousand motives," said Esposito as he and Ryan entered the bull pen and approached Beckett's desk.

"Route it," Ryan said.

Beckett clicked on the attempted – and failed – transaction to find out who it was destined for. The detectives and Castle grew anxious as the system continued to load, searching, searching... Bingo!

"Diego Mendoza..." Esposito said. "Why do I know that name?"

"He recently took over the Cazadors," Beckett said, with that tone of realization, close to fear, but more with the subtext, _I don't want to go there_.

There was silence.

Complete silence in the bull pen, surrounded by the cacophony of noise that consumed the break room, the copy room, adjacent offices, the elevator, the stairwell, the interview lounge. Everywhere was busy and bustling as usual on a Saturday now that shifts had started, but the four of them gathered around the computer sat in silent astonishment.

Beckett turned and looked at Castle, her mouth open, her eyebrows pinched.

He reached for her hand under the desk.

**9:30 A.M**

Castle watched uncomfortably as Beckett spoke with Gates in her office.

Through the glass he could see that Gates was as uneasy as the rest of them at the idea of getting caught up in a gang war. There was ample evidence to suggest that it was a bad idea, and Castle knew from his own experience that it was dangerous. He remembered the gang altercation that hit the wire when he was following Detective Slaughter – possibly the most terrifying week of his life. Castle shuddered when he remembered how bad a driver Slaughter had been.

At last Beckett returned to her desk. The others waited to hear what she had to say.

"Gates said to wait for phone records to come in then make our move, but she doesn;t like the idea of us heading out," she said, pressing her lips together; she also did not want to go.

She wasn't afraid, but she knew it was dangerous. She didn't want Castle in the firing line, or for any of them to be at risk in a gang's home environment, where they had the upper hand. Once they did go, they'd be taking back-up with them, possibly even a SWAT team.

But, mostly, she was indescribably terrified at the idea of Castle being in the firing line.

**9:35 A.M**

They knew the phone records shouldn't take long as the subpoena for Gregory's financials had been filed at the same time as that for the information on his sim card.

Beckett approached the whiteboard and wrote 'Cazador?' on it beside 'Westie' and 'Rourke.' If this was a gang war then they'd need to get involved with several other task forces in the precinct and communicate with them. To Beckett they were all suspects, but to the Gang task force they may be sitting ducks, or to the Vice cops they might be very close to a conviction. None of them could be sure what the other was up to, making it particularly difficult to plan a raid.

"So, our vic is in deep with a Cazador, and jumps in with the Westies in the hope they'll bail him out," Beckett began a theory thread.

"But he doesn't act quickly enough and the Cazadors take him out," Castle finished. "But why would he turn to another gang for money?"

"Good question. Maybe he just went to them for protection?" She suggested.

"Well, like Rourke said, he was pretty new to the gang. He was green. So surely they wouldn't have cared about losing him?"

"Hmm," was all Beckett said, glaring at the board, trying to find the link.

She knew the Cazador wouldn't break. Of couse he wouldn't; even if they had him on drug possession or baring an unlicensed firearm, threatened him with charges, he wouldn't cave. Kate had dealt with these people before, she knew their tells.

The shaky guys gave in to pressure. Too much remorse or too little was a giveaway. Asking questions, trying to take control, suggested the interrogatee had something to hide. And finally dominance. Whoever had the upper hand, and Beckett always tried to keep it, could conceal their knowledge effectively. If a Cazador was in the box he would fight for dominance. He would try to make her feel small, objectify her, look at her like a piece of meat. These guys were seasoned, far more than the Westies, who needn't be because they were more discrete. The Cazadors were prepared for a fight because they were loud, so they had to be.

**9:49 A.M**

Beckett took Castle's wrist without a word and led him down the corridor, past holding, to the window overlooking the apartment buildings that opened out onto Thirteenth Street.

She turned to him and he held her, providing her comfort while her mind raced. He said nothing, knowing he need not, but quietly enveloped her in the safety of his firm embrace.

"Castle," she whispered hoarsely.

"Kate," he said quietly.

"Please don't come."

He was quiet for a moment.

"Kate, I want to," he pulled back and held her shoulders, rubbed the tops of her arms.

"Why?" she asked after a moment, and for one bizarre second she thought she might cry.

"I want to be there to protect you."

"With what?" she asked, a lump in her throat. If the Cazadors got hold of them – which they certainly could – they'd kill Castle to get to her. Because if she was the one they killed, they'd learn nothing, and then they'd be at greater risk because the NYPD doesn;t just let a cop death slide.

"You're vast arsenal or rapier wit?" she repeated something she remembered from years before, the night Castle had stayed "To protect her" when Jordan Shaw had joined them for her Crazed Fan Case.

Castle only smiled. "I love you," was all he said. Three simple words.

And she knew what was contained in them and she hated it, wanted to hit him for even suggesting it, knock some sense into him, or maybe even just burst into tears and cry against his chest.

"No," she said almost inaudibly, shaking her head.

Castle said nothing. He didn't need to, he knew she understood. And he wouldn't change his mind.

Should the need arise, he'd jump.

He'd take a bullet for her.


	5. Chapter 5

**10:00 A.M**

The four of them sat patiently in the bull pen. The white noise around them had dulled; many of the officers who'd been arriving at shift's start had since escaped to the street, grabbing flak jackets to protect against the sudden bitter cold.

So Beckett, Castle, Ryan and Esposito were almost alone, and they preferred it this way, immersed in each others' own company and critical thinking, as well as the comforting _clap _of their baseball as it flew from hand to hand, light, easy catches that were direct enough to be uncomplicated by Castle and Beckett's only having one hand, their others being so closely and tightly intertwined under the desk Castle wondered if Kate were trying to determine a way for the mere pressure of her fingertips to secure him to this space and keep him safe. None of them spoke as they tossed the ball to one another, besides the odd, quiet comment _good catch _or _nice one_.

Really, they were not trying to waste the day, nor were they putting off a confrontation with the Cazadors, though they were certainly grateful for the opportunity to delay a possible encounter. No, they were still waiting on the phone records; their interpretations of the time of arrival had been far from accurate, and so here they sat, ball in hands, waiting.

Gates was in her office, on the phone with the court house, being put through from judge to judge to judge, between extensive holds and snappy inputs from secretaries, trying to locate the one who'd been sourced by said secretaries to sign their subpoenas and ask him to send it over immediately. Had she found the judge, there was no doubt they would jump at the name 'Cazador' and send it from three different servers in five different languages if he or she had to; it was just the finding part that presented a problem.

Only when Beckett slipped and dropped the baseball did the gang realise just how much this was affecting her. Of course, there'd been worse scenarios. Castle didn't even want to think about the sniper attacks that had plagued New York City, or the bombing. _47 seconds_, he remembered. No, they weren't as pressured as they'd been before; far less was at stake, and they could afford to wait like this.

But the situation was different.

Oddly, Kate was thinking of the same thing – the week the sniper had hit. She remembered how she could barely keep it together, how badly she wanted to, and hence how much she hated herself when she couldn't. This wasn't as bad as that. There wasn't a deadline, there wasn't a mass attack, deaths weren't in double figures; this wasn't as bad as that.

But the situation had changed.

Now Castle was in the line of fire. They weren't just investigating a mobster's murder, if a bloodier affair came about, they would be on one side, the mobsters on the other; there was no saving them. If they went after the Cazadors and the Cazadors weren't happy about it, they'd struggle to leave amicably.

Kate realised that she'd probably do much better not to think that, instead to think it may not come to that and she could live a long and happy life with Castle by her side, but logic took hold of her brain and it couldn't be suppressed.

Her instinct to protect was to powerful.

She got up for some coffee.

**10:13 A.M**

Kate slouched on the couch in the break room as she had just a few hours before, though her body language was for more hostile. Her jaw flexed as she tried to rid her throat of its lump and her feet rested against the table, her spiky knees forming a fence around her. She was so angry, so frustrated, she actually thought she might cry.

Then she realised she wanted to slap herself around the face.

What the hell was going on?

Love, that's what. No, surely not?

Beckett thought of all the movies she'd watched, the books she'd read, the songs she'd played over and over again fifteen years ago. _All the songs make sense_. And they made sense. But was that from memory or from feeling? Was rational thought just making the link between listening and understanding?

No.

Because she was in love with Richard Castle.

That was the truth, laid bare. She didn't just say it to him, she meant it.

Love.

It was scaring the hell out of her.

All of a sudden, her emotions had spiralled out of control, her thoughts portrayed no rational pattern and even her actions had suffered – she feared to let go of his hand.

She looked down at the coffee cup she clutched, her knuckles white around it. Could she do this? Of course she could, she was Kate Beckett. But...

But nothing, she told herself. This was her job. And besides, how would she explain it to Gates? In no way that would keep her job. She'd be fired on the spot for an ethics violation, she could see it, and Gates had been waiting months to get rid of Castle, anyway.

She could do this.

No matter how deep in love she was.

**10:27 A.M**

Kate had had a long time to collect her thoughts, but her ability to compartmentalise had suddenly become quite affected; her system had been messed up, all her thoughts and feelings were in different boxes, and they weren't the right ones.

Castle came in so quietly that at first Kate didn't notice, not until his figure appeared, silently rotating the blinds so the slats were closed. She felt his weight join her on the couch.

They sat for a moment, almost a whole meter apart, before they simultaneously decided to slide closer to each other. Beyond that, Kate couldn't bring herself to move. She remembered the last time she'd been this scared. And it wasn't because of a psychotic shooter or a bomb or even a gang war; it was fourteen years ago, January ninth, and that was when she became a new person; she hated to be dramatic by defining it as that, but it was as close to the truth as she could make it, and she didn't just change for the bad, she knew.

At last she began to cry softly.

It was like Castle had been waiting for it; he placed her coffee cup gently on the table, and then pulled her against him. She rested on his shoulder, free to expel her emotions without the watchful eyes of nosy colleagues, and cried softly for several minutes, allowing her fear to escape and her rational, work-box to take the stage in her mind and receive her complete focus and undivided attention.

And when she was good and ready, she and Castle stood, she wiped her eyes, and they left the room, Castle heading back to the bull pen and Kate leaving for the ladies' room.

**10:33 A.M**

"Dude, what did you say?" Esposito asked, his face sombre as he worried for his friend.

Castle thought for a moment. "Nothing," he said at last. "I just helped her cry."


	6. Chapter 6

**11:11 A.M**

_Thunderbirds are go_.

The bull pen was frantic. Phone records had been a bust; Gates had given the order.

Time to go.

Tension was high. It seemed nobody could settle, not even Castle, who could usually amuse himself with some childish thing, like a stack of Russian dolls or the coffee machine. No, even he was extremely alert of the danger on this occasion, but, more than that, he was well aware that Kate would be at its epicentre; should the whole thing implode, she'd be there to take it for them. And he didn't want that.

He couldn't live with that. Not ever.

Everybody was prepared – Kevlar strapped in place, flak jackets shrugged on, service weapons holstered. Several uniforms who were travelling with them were set up with wires so that the situation could be tracked without the use of radios, which would no doubt give away their positions.

The plan was this: Tear gas was to be launched into the belly of the known location while the NYPD surrounded the dilapidated building – three cops on each of the two doors and two cops on each of the two fire escapes. Ryan was leading the Fire escape crew while Beckett and Esposito had a door each. Even Gates was coming; her job was to liaise with other people in the building – there were two apartments above the Cazadors' and one below, not atypical of an old conversion. Then, the NYPD would announce itself and bombard the building, guns raised, a sniper to each group, and cuff every gang member in sight. Not a single felon was to be led from the building besides Mendoza. They were to snatch him and leave the others lined up against the wall in the company of the uniformed officers.

Before they left, Gates called a team meeting around the whiteboard, to clue in all present and prepare them for the ferocity of this particular group of felons.

"Diego Mendoza is the target," Gates began. "He has three registered weapons and only our Lord knows how many unregistered; at least eight Cazadors have been arrested for possession of an unlicensed firearm in just six months. However, we only want Mendoza. His cronies can piss off."

The entire company of the bull pen gasped collectively at Gates's use of foul language.

"Nobody gets hurt," she said sternly. Hence the cuss, thought Kate: she was worried about her department, her team.

"It is extremely likely that this residence is used to cut and distribute drugs, traditionally cocaine if the Gang Task Force's records are to be assumed as an overview of Cazador history. It is also likely multiple gang members with be high as well as armed," Gates cautioned. "But please remember, we want Mendoza only – you have to deny what your training tells you and leave with only him. Detective Simons from downstairs will lead his team in the moment each of you is accounted for," she referred to the captain of the Gang cops who'd been in a conference with Gates and the guy from Vice for the past ten minutes, laying foundations for drug arrests, gang arrests and just one homicide arrest.

"Furthermore," Gates continued, "here is our route."

Gates used a simple map of the lower east side to explain where each squad car would approach from and where they would silence their sirens. She also explained the road block strategy in order to remove pedestrians from the immediate vicinity of the target building. Finally, she moved onto the secondary locations.

"It is also possible that Mendoza is not even in this building. Vice has been consulting with Simons on this one, and he believes there are four secondary buildings to this one which are being used by the Cazadors to distribute their product. They haven't even reached their complete count on the tertiary buildings yet. These locations are smaller and accessed by the public less frequently in terms of the immediate vicinity. Notice the primary location is surrounded by the secondary ones.

"Should Mendoza be undiscovered in location one, each team – Ryan, Beckett, Esposito and LT are leads – will take a separate building, accompanied by two uniformed officers, a Vice detective and two members of the Gang Task Force."

At last, formality was done with. Gates let out a heavy sigh as though she'd been holding her breath the whole time, counting the number of things which could fail and creating a cumulative figure of losses, accidents or injuries that were possible, all the while wearing herself into the ground.

"And guys?" she called out just before the bull pen began to empty. "Stay safe."

Gates and Beckett made eye contact and nodded to each other.

And so Beckett turned and led her team out into the cold.

**11:30 A.M**

"Castle, no," Beckett said imperatively.

"Kate," Castle said, cutting off her rebuke.

Beckett was extremely unhappy in the car ride down the Bowery; the tension rolling from her shoulders was all but palpable.

However, inside, she was less tension – less sturdiness – and more deer-in-the-headlights fear.

She couldn't really recall the last time she'd felt this deep-seated terror while on the job, which lead her to the only possible conclusion available to draw: It was all Castle's fault. And he wasn't helping now, insisting he accompany her, be there for her.

"It's too dangerous!" she protested. She was actually adding to her stress levels and she knew it, but she couldn't let this one slide.

"Come on, I signed that waiver all those years ago and you know I've had more than my fair share of close shaves. Besides, sometimes I even help you. Actually, sometimes I even save your ass." Castle meant it as a fond jab, a small tease to lift the moment and bring them just a little closer to how they usually were.

But Beckett didn't take the bait. She was drowning in this, and her only dry land was slowly sliding down with her. If he disappeared completely, she couldn't be saved.

"Please," she muttered. "Please, Castle, don't. Please."

Just looking at her face it was plain to see how much Kate was hurting herself over this.

Castle was silent for a moment, a moment enough to allow him to switch off the siren as they drew nearer their destination, only heightening Kate's apprehension.

"Kate, I'll be fine. We'll be fine," Castle said at last, all playfulness drained from his voice, leaving behind a thick sediment of seriousness that could not be denied.

Beckett's knuckles were white on the steering wheel and her jaw was set. Castle knew she wasn't buying it. He was unsure whether she was trying to convince herself that they would, indeed, be fine or to find some strand of an argument that may force him to change his mind. She was in such deep concentration Castle wondered if she was actually breathing; he was about to speak again when she cut him off.

"I can't lose you! I just can't! I lost my mom and I won't go through that again!"

Castle was surprised by this outburst. Kate had always been so good at reigning in her emotions, at keeping the job completely separate from her emotions. Now, just across the car from him, she was completely wooden, her joints locked, and her breathing was sharp and shallow. Her eyes were wide, her teeth clenched behind her parted lips.

Then they were there.

Kate shut off the engine but did not get out of the car. She didn't shift her position at all for a while. She looked over at him softly with the tenderness of a mother looking down at her child, so love-filled were her eyes.

Castle took her hands in his and drew circles on the backs of them with his thumbs. He leaned in, pulling her toward him, and kissed her softly as part of their pre-invasion ritual. When he said, "I love you," she spoke at the same time and their words of commitment melded together, drifting through the air with the weight only of meaning, deep and true. In deference to the ritual, they turned to leave the car, but before Castle could click open his door Beckett reached for him again and pulled him in for a longer, slower, deeper kiss. As Castle cradled her face, Kate stroked his hair. She pulled away delicately then rested her head on his chest for a moment, enjoying his warmth and his sweet scent for a moment.

Then they go out of the car.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hi everyone, sorry the update has taken me so long! I'm afraid coursework and school and LIFE rather crept up on me! I hope you enjoy this one, please leave a review! Thank you for reading, following, whatever, the popularity of this story really touched me and I'm so glad people liked it! Good night, sweet peas, and sweet Caskett dreams to you. :)_

_KT X_

* * *

**12:00**

Castle watched anxiously as Kate took point, pointing to her eyes then the front door of the building. She then pointed at Ryan and the north fire escape, then at Esposito and the rear of the building, curving her arm to convey to everyone that he was going round the back. Castle thought her movements were oddly graceful, given the stressful situation, and when she pivoted on the balls of her feet to approach the building, her hair arced around her, the wind catching the golden-brown tendrils and setting them aflutter like a bird's wings.

He glanced down at her shoes and noted that they were only wedges – boots with a heel or around two inches. Quite modest. He also noted how they clung to her slim legs below where denim did the same, highlighting her curves as the material shimmered in the noon light peeking between the heavy clouds. Then he looked at her belt, at the sliver of her perfect skin exposed beneath her favourite leather jacket.

_Stop! Concentrate! _He chided himself, shaking his head animatedly and trying to focus on the situation. He positioned himself behind the two uniforms flanking Beckett. He felt uncomfortable when the vice and the pair of gang plainclothes detectives moved to stand behind him; he was used to hanging at the back of the pack, out of harm's way, but of course his team was going in first. More importantly, his partner was going in first.

The stress wave hit him again, making him forget about the guys behind him and worry again about Kate. Of course he knew that was unrealistic – she was completely capable of taking care of herself, everyone present and the intended targets all at once. But that didn't prevent his concern. She appeared tough like steel to everybody because that's how she presented herself, but he knew her – all of her – and he was well aware that her mortality levelled with his and that of the guys behind him or the cops on the fire escapes. She was no stronger that they were, no matter the height of her heels or the stature they gave her that she so loved, nor the stone face with which she met the most twisted of killers. She was breakable. She was fragile. And she'd been broken before.

_Shut up_. Castle again scalded himself mentally. She'd bounced back from that! But then, she hadn't taken a bullet...

That was the last straw. He trod on his own foot, hard, and hoped nobody noticed. Fortunately, that did the trick, and he moved his mind to the Cazadors and the situation they faced.

Of course, the writer in him couldn't help but run through all the worst possible scenarios.

**12:04**

Kate did not have concentration issues. While the possibility of Castle's harm looped continuously in her mind, prevailing despite her efforts to suppress it, she told herself he was safe in the capable hands of their borrowed friends from Vice and the Gang Task Force and forced herself to focus.

Gates soon came out of the building with three civilians tailing her, two early thirties and one late sixties, Beckett guessed. She couldn't really tell, so surrounded were they by SWAT guys. Beckett didn't even know Gates had asked them to show up; she supposed that was so the guys outside didn't feel the need to radio them, alerting the suspects downstairs of their presence.

She shook herself out, her shoulders to her hands shimmying as she hopped from foot to foot. Then she pulled her Glock from its belt holster and threw her badge around her neck so they'd know she was for real without the possibility of her losing the tin.

Finally ready, the civilians out of the way, Kate took an isosceles stance as she approached the door. A uniformed officer – Hastings, her friend – took the door knob and Kate counted to three then nodded, making sure all four teams would be as synchronized as possible.

Hastings threw open the door. They could see the stairwells leading to the basement and first-floor apartments occupied by the residents outside.

"NYPD!" Beckett shouted.

They went inside and were consumed by blackness.

**12:19**

Despite Kate's announcement, there was not a sound but the distant dripping of a leaky tap and the footsteps of her team. She could barely pick up the echo of Esposito's heavy boots at the other end of the building.

The silence worried her. It was the most deafening of silences, the most weighted with tension and anticipation.

She hated it.

She removed her Maglite from the pocket of her jacket, slowly sliding down the zipper so as not to create sounds to disrupt the quiet.

Once she clicked it on and lit the area, they realised they were in a fairly small space. The stairwells were to the right of them, and on the left, a doorway. It was painted red but had since faded, and mould and damp had started to crawl down from the doorframe, encroaching upon the door handle like blood poisoning crept toward the heart.

Shining her torch along the narrow hall between the door and the stairs, Beckett could see Esposito in the distance. He was watching her, too. She held up her hand with all five fingers up.

Five seconds.

"NYPD!" Beckett screamed again as they burst through the flimsy wooden doors, only this time her voice was shrill – the approaching quiet had unnerved her.

"Woah!" came a voice behind her and she gasped, wide eyed.

Castle's voice.

**12:24**

Kate turned, her gun arm fell slack. She retreated. Officer Hastings assumed her position.

She ran to him.

"It's OK! Kate, it's OK!" Castle cried, standing from where he'd tripped over her dropped Maglite.

She gasped, "I'm so sorry, Castle!" Her voice was high and breathy, barely there yet resembling a scream.

"NYPD!" Esposito shouted from the rear door.

Beckett turned. She blocked Castle's body with hers.

Their Vice and Gang friends were holding back, but it was clear they were anxious to get going. It was going against their training to stay out of it.

Kate headed straight back into the room, trying to leave Castle behind.

He didn't buy it, he followed her in.

"Show yourselves!" Kate cried.

Silence.

Safeties clicking... Reinforcements or enemies?

Footsteps.

Silence.

A high beam came on out of nowhere, luminescence sprawled across the room.

The Cazadors were huddled in the middle of the room. Their card table, loaded with coke, was behind them. They were shoulder to shoulder, their backs to the table. There were ten of them, they each had a gun. All guns were raised, but they were blinded.

Beckett turned, sought the source of the light.

Gates.

She nodded to her captain in gratitude and Gates pointed to her eyes then the suspects in return.

SWAT guys swarmed in.

Stalemate.

Guns raised, hearts pounding.

Kate shifted; she didn't want them to see Castle.

The only one without a gun.

**12:27**

It seemed like an eternity they stood there, staring each other down.

Kate stared at the ring leader, never took her eye off him. Mendoza was tanned and sported something of a goatee. He had a heavy brow-bone that overshadowed his eyes which became pits, endless sockets, in the stream of fluorescent light. Sweat rolled down the side of his face passed his large tattoo, the lion's head framed by the letter C, the mark of a Cazador. He was breathing heavy, they'd moved the room around. Tables were overturned in the conrers – this was their strategy, his game plan. They'd moved all the product to the middle and assumed defensive positions. They'd formed a circle in the centre, every angle was covered.

No window.

Beckett needed Mendoza alive.

But if one of them shot they'd all shoot, the NYPD would shoot back, it's become a bloodbath.

Castle would get hurt. Castle didn't have a gun, Castle couldn't shoot back, he'd get hit, he'd go down, he wouldn't make it out. He was stupid coming in here, he thought he could protect her. Or maybe he just couldn't wait outside wondering whether or not she was OK, she could understand that, at least, she had some degree of empathy.

Kate's ears were ringing. Her pulse was so strong she could feel it throbbing in her neck, pounding inside her skull. Her forehead was damp, the room was hot.

Something had to be done.

Somebody had to move.

Nobody was going to break.

Somebody had to do something.

**12:30**

Kate started to walk forward, Mendoza's gun trained on her.

Collective gasps filled the room, Gates looked like she could write her up right there.

Kate walked until she was but a metre away from Mendoza. His gang buddies ogled her. She didn't know if they were picturing her naked or wondering what the hell she was doing. Probably both.

She parted her hands and held up her gun. Rested it on a nearby chair angled towards an overturned table.

She was unarmed.

She watched them, they watched her.

Still nobody moved.

What had she done? She'd given up her hand and it hadn't given her team an advantage.

"Diego Mendoza, you are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Sam Gregory."

**12:33**

Silence.

That eerie quiet was back, the kind where the drop of a pin could be heard, yet the stillness was thunderous.

Silence.

Then a gasp, Kate's gasp in surprise as someone took her wrist. She glanced up, just for a second. Castle. She turned her attention back to Mendoza, tried to free her wrist.

"Castle," she whispered, "Go back."

"Not a chance," he whispered.

He let go of her wrist – Gates was right there – but stood by her.

They stood in utter stillness. The task force had not foreseen a strategic counter-fire; they'd only seen a raid. Defence was not predicted, not to this degree of precision. This was smart. They hadn't thought of smart.

Everyone took collective breaths as Diego Mendoza stood.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hi guys,_

_Sorry it has taken so long to update, but life has gotten quite crazy down here. Now it is half term and I hope I can get you something else soon as I don't want to keep you all on a cliffhanger!_

_Thanks everyone for reading this far, I am so grateful to you all, especially my bunny rabbit: _**katieupatree. **_Everyone please tell me what you think!_

_Loveball,_

_**Katie.**_

_**Twitter: Green_Tiger_21**_

* * *

**12:34**

"Good afternoon, Detective," said Mendoza.

Everybody looked stunned as Castle scoped the room. He stood close to Beckett but not close enough to arouse suspicion. He was the only person within earshot of her even but rugged breaths; her steely resolve masked the flutter of her heart; she hid her quaking behind the firm, undeniable stance she held, her posture closed towards Mendoza, and her breaths began to slow and still as she regained her confidence and assuredness.

"Mendoza," was all Kate said in acknowledgement of him.

Kate knew the position she was in, knew how dangerous and foolish it was to put herself forward like that, but she had to do something. Not only was her team battling with her here, so were others she had only recently become responsible for – what if their trust in her had been misplaced? She had had to take action.

And all she had to bank on was that Mendoza understood his certain, immediate death should he pull that trigger and paint the walls with her brains, not to mention the instant desecration of his legacy as the full weight of the NYPD crumbled down upon not only the Cazadors, but every other gang in the city, tainting his memory and his fear-striking reputation as every felon in the Tristate Area cursed his ever existing and the stupidity upon which he acted, daring to kill a cop with more than a dozen badges surrounding him. Kate hoped that his reputation meant more to him that his product, or indeed his arrest. Or at least that his life held that meaning.

"I see you have brought along a cavalry. Were you not brave enough to take me yourself?" He grinned in a self-satisfied way.

Kate held out her arm as Castle took a half step forward, his face contorted in disgust as the images from Mendoza's transparent, primitive mind were projected across the room, made even more palpable by the way he checked her out.

"Seems that would have been unwise, given your preparation," Kate replied, deadpan. She paused before the last word and gestured around the room, at the disarray it found itself in. Even more important, though, was the arsenal the Cazadors had felt they required.

Mendoza had a fairly modest pistol – a Glock .45 – while his comrades had equipment ranging from a Smith and Wesson 9mm to a Sig Sauer 556, which, Kate had to admit, terrified the Hell out of her. It had been more than a year, yet she still could not look down the barrel of a rifle, could not maintain an even heartbeat if a trigger-happy sharp shooter so much as stroked the trigger guard of a sniper's choice weapon. As much as she tried to put it out of her mind, her eyes darted to the rifle regularly, a few goons to the right of Mendoza, pointed at Esposito, a few feet behind her.

Mendoza only chuckled, behaving like a kid who'd been ratted out trying to steal candy from the top cupboard.

"What can I say? Those two have been on us here for weeks. We've been expecting this."

Mendoza pointed to two gang cops stood fairly close to Captain Gates. They were not just shocked, but scared, too, to learn that they'd been made.

"You're good, boys, I have no means to offend you, but you're just a little too green."

Kate looked between Mendoza and the cops cautiously, trying to judge Mendoza's angle. Was he trying to provoke them in to attacking? If he made it out alive, he could sue the NYPD and be viewed as near invincible in his crummy world. Was he trying to degrade them? Perhaps make them feel small enough to fear him, earning him street credit points?

Mendoza slowly turned back to her.

"However," he purred, his tainted accent caught somewhere between Mexican and American, "I did not expect the law to look quite like you."

"That's enough!" Castle protested as Mendoza eyed Kate hungrily.

"Castle!" Kate warned in a hiss, grabbing his wrist. He looked at her and was softened by her pleading eyes; he'd expected a face full of fury.

"Your pretty-boy pet needs to be kept on his leash," Mendoza complained, scrutinising Rick as though he were trash. "We can soon fix that."

He gestured with two fingers to Goon One, a burly guy crouched to Mendoza's immediate left.

He stood.

And took aim.

**12: 40**

"No!" Beckett screamed, a thick, tortured scream, as she reached for her discarded Sig 9mm, lunging in front of Rick, shielding him.

As she leaned, Mendoza had to redirect his shooter, but he had just seconds. He shoved the barrel of the .44 Desert Eagle aside, but the bullet was already in transit.

The flight path changed.

Kate braced herself for impact. She closed her eyes tight, gritted her teeth. She flung her arm around Castle's waist as she still leaned across him, her back just level with his chest. Felt his arms circle her, drag her to the ground. She lay on top of him, clutching him, her face buried in his chest. His fingers were so tight, they dug into her spine.

Last embrace.

**12:41**

Kate opened her eyes.

Castle opened his eyes.

They looked at each other, long and hard, analysing flushed cheeks, glowing irises and gathering tears.

A smile broke out across Kate's face. A beaming smile so bright, so bright. Like she'd just found him, safe and sound, hidden in a niche at the back of a raided bank, or in the motel room of an escaped serial killer, tied to a chair.

Kate hugged Castle, her arms tight around his neck as tears escaped her eyes in joy. He held her close, rubbing her back. They were alive.

But soon commotion at the back of the room ended their pocket of happiness.

Despite their elective ignorance of the possibility of discovery, their secret becoming exposed, nobody had noticed them.

Who was hit?

Castle and Kate stood quickly, began to advance towards the back of the room.

Esposito shouted, "Bro!"

Oh, no, Kate thought and brought a hand to her lips.

Ryan.

**12:43**

Fire burned in the pit of her stomach and Castle saw it reflected in her eyes, saw the absolute vehemence and ferocity there.

Beckett turned. She raised her gun.

Marching towards Mendoza, she clicked off the safety.

"He is my friend," she growled at him.

Captain Gates stepped forward. "Detective Beckett, lower your weapon," she ordered.

Kate looked deep into Mendoza's impassive eyes, searching for a hint of remorse. Her lack of discovery angered her more and she bared her teeth in a feral snarl.

"Detective!" Gates shouted imperatively.

Kate unwillingly dropped her aim. Her gaze never left Mendoza's.

She tucked her pistol into her belt holster and pulled out her handcuffs.

"Turn around," she ordered bitterly through her gritted teeth.

"I don't think so," Mendoza replied and raised his hands, palms up.

His gang rose, guns pointed.

Mendoza raised his Glock as Kate rested a hand on her Sig. He pointed it at her forehead, right between the eyes.

Never did she look away from him. Never did she blink in fear.

The SWAT team advanced, taking down the Cazadors, shots flying, trained officers crumpling from the impact to their Kevlar. A goon went down. And another.

All Hell broke loose around them and Kate could only see Mendoza, stood opposite her, his gun raised.

**12:45**

Gates took aim at Mendoza, her own Smith and Wesson emerging from a shoulder holster Castle didn't even know she had.

"Sir, left!" he yelled as a goon took aim at the captain.

She turned and shot his shoulder. He went down.

But Castle was trapped in a slow-moving bubble. It was like time itself was eluding him, freezing his progress as it continued to run from him, faster and faster, daring him to beat it.

There were flashes, noises, bodies falling, Castle didn't know whose.

He just saw her.

Standing like an angel surrounded by mist that hung heavy with gun powder. She didn't move. Why didn't she run? Her hand still rested on her hip and Castle understood. She was powerless.

What if he lost her? He couldn't lose her.

He wouldn't!

He ran, ran fast as he could, sprinted like an Olympian towards her.

He'd tackled her one before.

It was a day he'd rather forget, but he couldn't.

So close.

He jumped, feet propelling him, air whistling past his ears, arms outstretched, reaching for her, for them, for love.

He had to make it.

**12:46**

Kate gasped in surprise as the impact rocked her.

She flew to the ground, her eyes wide. She pushed past Mendoza as she was brought down, gazing at the floor and contemplating its inevitable impact.

A final shot rang out.

Was this the end?

**13:04**

Rushing wheels.

Bright white linoleum flooring reflected the glare of fluorescent lights.

Blood ran a trail drawn by the wheels of the gurney, traced along the cracked corridor floor, red streaks tainting the white purity there.

_One, two, three, four..._

Counting between harsh breaths.

Two bodies on the gurney, one pumping relentlessly, one laying still.

One dying.

Rushing, rushing, bursting through double doors.

The frantic repetitions of the heart monitor as it was connected, the harsh commands barked by doctors, nurses, paramedics, whoever.

That body had to be left behind, couldn't come through the next set of doors.

It stood in the hallway, gazing after the gurney, after the body being wheeled into theatre.

They'd been here before. One inside, one out. One dying, one safe.

The dying one was whisked away, out of the safe one's reach.

The dying one.

This time, it wasn't her.


	9. Chapter 9

_For **Katie, **who keeps me coming back to this one._

katieupatree: u/2063542/

* * *

**14:00**

Kate paced along the corridor, her steps long, never leaving room for more than five lunges down the corridor. Nobody else was there. Not a single human being. Only her and the buzzing of the harsh fluorescent lights and the sound of rain as the wind threw it against the frosted glass windows at the top of the wall, so high up she couldn't even see out of them. She continued to pace. The lights continued to buzz. Her hair must already look like tumbleweed, she thought, for so many times had she run her fingers through it: her nervous tell.

"You can go in and see him now," came an accented – probably Indian, Kate suspected – voice from behind her.

After a reaction time of the slightest fraction of a second, Kate sprinted through the double doors into the ward, not even taking a moment to glance at the doctor who'd given her passage. She scanned the room as she ran and spotted Castle straight away sitting up in a corner bed, dressed in a hospital gown. He saw her just as she laid eyes on him, and their beaming smiles could rival each other in brilliance.

She ran straight to him and jumped right onto his bed, throwing her arms around his neck and smiling through tears, then sobs. He embraced her softly, his hands resting warmly on her back, as she clung onto him fiercely and rocked from her crying.

When at last she pulled away from him her sobs had subsided. She looked him in the eyes, smiled even wider, though no one would have thought it possible, and cried again, so happy was she.

"You're OK!" she cried in delight, placing her hands on either side of his face, her fingers spread wide as though to trap him. And right there, in front of a full ward, she kissed him. She started soft, then became completely immersed in the liquid joy that surrounded them and allowed the kiss to deepen until she had sidled down to his height, where she broke the kiss and lay quite contentedly by his side, simply staring into the pools of his eyes and melting.

"You're OK," she whispered.

"Yup," he grinned.

"So – but – I mean, they wheeled you off and...? I – what actually happened, Rick?" Kate asked, her eyes concerned, though a smile still played at the corners of her lips, which, as he spoke, grew into another grin worthy of a dental advertisement.

"Doc says they had to investigate because the wound was right around my heart, but apparently I was about three millimetres more lucky than you," as he finished he gently tapped her nose to put a light-hearted spin on the comparison. "So it was just a stitch-up," he went on to explain, "muscle and skin. It was a through-and-through, too."

"Oh, that's definitely good news," Kate said, her voice betraying her giddiness.

"Are you kidding me?!" Castle replied with incredulity, wearing the expression of a writer denied mobster or spy theories while sitting beside a detective facing a whiteboard. "I don't even get to keep the bullet, because it isn't in me!"

Kate laughed, such a light, elated sound, and Castle joined in. Even worried families and bedridden patients recovering from various surgeries smiled as Kate laughed, lighting up the room, quite literally, with the musical, chiming sound, like a stream breaking over pebbles or birds singing with the first glimpse of sunrise.

"How's Ryan?" Castle asked softly, trying not to dispel the joyous pocket they shared.

"Esposito texted be about fifteen minutes ago – they haven't heard anything."

"Is he not nearby?" Rick asked.

"No, they took him straight upstairs. The only words Espo caught were "Tension pneumothorax.""

Castle sighed and Kate rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"How long till you're released?" she asked.

"They're tracking down discharge forms for me. I should stay for observation, but... We gotta solve this. For Ryan."

Kate could not agree more.

"I'll chase them up for you," she said, hopping from the bed and leaving him with a soft kiss, which lingered longer than she had planned.

**14:32**

Kate was very worried as Castle wheezed along alongside her having at last made it out. They had only walked from his ground floor ward out to the ambulance bay for Kate to radio dispatch requesting a patrol car to run them back to the precinct, and already he was struggling.

"Rick?" she asked softly, almost childlike in the way that her voice trembled, despite her efforts to reign it in along with her fear.

"I'm fine, honestly," he said, remarkably chipper. "The stitches are pulling, is all."

Kate still watching him with concern as the patrol car pulled up with a rookie at the wheel. "Hi, guys, hop in," he said and they obliged, thankful for the ride.

As they travelled towards the Twelfth Kate rested against Castle and he rested his arm around her shoulder as though they were but a young couple fresh out of high school. She tapped out a short message to Esposito, asking is he'd heard anything, who replied with a very quipped "no." She worried not just for Kevin but for Javier, also. She remembered how cut up he'd been over his old partner, Ike, but she knew that if he lost Ryan he would forever be blaming himself, if for no reason other than the fact that he was there. He would conjure some irrationally belief that he should've seen the shot coming, should've raised his own weapon before Ryan went down. Kate thought that Javier just didn't like to believe that he wasn't invincible. He often needed reminding, like when he helped her through their sniper case, when he'd shown her the sniper rifle which had shot her. Then he exposed himself, but seldom did he truly let his armour slide and in no way would he take a chink lightly.

And, indeed, if she lost Ryan, she knew that she, too, could never forgive herself.

**14:42**

The precinct they came home to was quiet.

Only Gates was there, gazing at the whiteboard with such determination Kate feared she might burn a hole right through it with her penetrating stare alone.

"Sir?" Beckett said very softly.

"Kate."

She didn't say anything else.

"What would you like us to do?"

Gates responded to the word "us," looking up to assess her company. She didn't even scowl when she found that it was Castle.

"Castle, could you please fill out this paperwork," Gates gestured to Beckett's desk, upon which sat a stack of papers requiring his signature, agreeing to press charges against Mendoza's men, all of whom had made it out alive.

"Of course."

"Beckett, you and I will take Mendoza."

"Yes, sir," Beckett said.

Gates immediately headed towards interrogation, entering first into the external room through which she could watch Mendoza.

Before following, Kate placed a kiss on Rick's cheek so lightly she barely grazed his skin. He caught her hand as she walked away and she squeezed it in return before he let go and bent over his paperwork.


	10. Chapter 10

**15:04**

Castle's chest burned, like a fire was roaring through him, eating through his very being from his heart outward, where the seared edges of his destroyed tissues screamed in their mangled protest, fighting to be freed from their nylon stitches, discontent in their knotted prison.

As he bent over Kate's desk, Castle found himself edging further and further forward, further and further down towards an unfortunate encounter between hard, cold wood and his own forehead. He fought to stay upright, but the searing in his chest made it consistently harder to stay where he was, to maintain a confident posture and even to focus on the simplest of tasks set before him. His eyes grew unfocused and his head spun. Screw Tylenol, he thought to himself, give me morphine.

Once his signature was finally at the bottom of the page, slightly shaky and marginally slanted, Castle sat back. The movement was so strained he found himself holding his breath as he shifted, then letting it go in a huge huff one he'd repositioned himself. At last comfortable – in the loosest possible sense of the word – Castle scanned his mind, attempting to find some justifiable step forward they could take to lead them in the right direction.

Castle wondered how Kate was doing.

**15:16**

Beckett wondered how Rick was doing.

Something was off about him. He'd seemed eager to leave the hospital, and she still smiled when she thought of his indignation at the loss of his slug, which no doubt would have ended up in his loft, somewhere presentable as a conversation starter, so Castle could tell of his bravery and heroism.

Kate's thought train faltered as Gates raised her voice. She had to focus, but Castle was in pain and she had some nagging, urging instinct inside her, pulling her toward him, like he had his very own gravitational hold on her. Like he was her core, like she couldn't possibly stay grounded without him.

Her heart rate was just a little too fast, her breathing a little too quick and she knew her head wasn't where it should be. If she had been in that room alone, Mendoza would have taken control in a matter of seconds. That wasn't allowed to happen – she couldn't let Mendoza walk free. She wouldn't be able to tell Ryan and she knew Castle would also be shattered. She knew there was something here – this guy knew something. She just wasn't sure how to dig for it.

She hoped Castle could find something, could think of something, no matter how outside the box.

And as that thought hit her, Kate had to suppress a laugh, because she realised that had anyone even suggested she require Castle's help four years ago she possibly would have floored them.

**15:24**

Castle was thinking – and maybe it was nothing – but he wondered if, despite a complete lack of remorse, a Cazador could show protectiveness over another human being... He wondered...

At the raid, the gang members had all been huddled around the table so they could shoot attackers from all sides, but... Castle knew he was missing something! He had to dig deeper, but things were so foggy and he wished the room wouldn't sway like that! The desk before him shifted and rippled like water. He refused to lose himself; Castle shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He thought.

He pictured the Cazadors squatting around the table, the white packs of powder piled behind them like a model Mount Everest, surrounded by bloody scales and torn red balloons. Castle wondered what poor soul had gotten enough monetary woes to get into trafficking for these guys. Tall, white guy, dark hair. Wears a suit, carried a roll-along case and keeps his passport in a leather cover – customs wouldn't even blink as he strolled past, a half a million dollars sitting in his stomach.

Maybe the victim?

Maybe he'd agreed to do a drug run for them and had been caught out or the plane had to make an emergency stop and he couldn't help but pass the product...

No, Castle countered, then he would owe them well over fifteen thousand dollars.

But maybe he did and he was just paying it in small sums – a drug trafficking payment plan.

That was the victim covered with theories; in his mind, Castle began a new thread for the Cazadors and began weaving a web.

He had thought about the table in the middle of the Cazadors' stingy room. It was quite close to the wall opposite the door – not completely central, though it had been equidistant from the walls to the detectives' left and right so they'd have good aim at whoever tried to bust in. On that side closest to the wall had sat younger men with smaller guns and much smaller egos, as well as far less a capacity to take Beckett in the box.

Those were the guys – the Cazador trainees. The guys Mendoza might even have the aptitude to look after...

Castle lit up Kate's screen and was relieved to find she was still logged in. He was unsure at first how to navigate the system, but he found a document pathway to recent items in the shared area and was able to find the booking forms for the Cazadors. He opened them all – twelve of them, not including Mendoza – and looked at their pictures. He kept up the young boys, five of them, and read through their information. Once he reached the final form and was starting to worry, he found he needn't even read past the first line.

Omar Mendoza.

Diego's baby brother.

That'll do.

**15:45**

Kate was startled, once again, out of a reverie, this time by one short, sharp knock on the interrogation room door.

"Your boy's come looking for you , eh? Thinks you can't handle me," Mendoza smiled a disgusting smile but Kate ignored him and excused herself, leaving Gates to say quietly yet more weighted with authority than if she'd shouted, "You look at me." She enunciated each word like a separate sentence and suddenly commanded Mendoza's full attention more effectively that if she'd stood and danced the Cancan.

But Beckett was glad to leave – she'd been starting to feel like that room had been getting hotter and the air pressure greater with every passing minute, making additional comments to Gates's body of interrogation, as they'd agreed, so Beckett might still have the opportunity to play Good Cop later.

"Castle?" she said quietly once she'd stepped out to meet him. Her expression faltered. "Are you–" but he didn't let her finish voicing her concern for his health as she looked at him, standing white and sweaty before her, like all the blood had run to his toes and stayed there.

"This guy," Castle held up a piece of paper with a photo of a teenage boy on it alongside his booking details.

"He's a Cazador? He's fifteen."

"I know. And his name?"

The penny dropped and Beckett gasped. "Mendoza," she whispered.

That's right, Diego in there had a younger brother, but, more importantly, Kate Beckett had leverage. "Castle, you're–" she began to exclaim, then lowered her voice. "You're brilliant."

Castle only grinned in a _Why, thank you _way and headed towards the viewing room after his eyes had softened to molten orbs, melting her with her own special look, reserved for her. Possibly, she thought, because he'd already tried other ways to win her over, and so far that was the only successful attempt he'd discovered.

He shut the door to the ob room and she turned for the interrogation room.

Time to get this SOB, she thought to herself and smiled.


	11. Chapter 11

**16:00**

"Well, look what we have here," Beckett said, tossing the NYPD paper sleeve onto the table as though it were worthless, sending several papers careening out.

Making eye contact with her Captain, Beckett gave her most solid look and soon Gates relaxed slightly in her chair, implying that she was stepping down from the lead role, allowing Beckett to use her new leverage against Mendoza. Beckett was glad that Gates had enough trust in her to know what she was doing; she still wanted the Good Cop card in her hand, saving it for later, so she hoped she could work this around getting information in exchange for the lenient treatment of this boy. Moreover, she could have handed Gates the file to read, creating a sense of unease for Mendoza, like she and Castle had when reading through that factory owner's file when the weathergirl was murdered.

Castle... Rick.

Focus! Beckett needed to splash some cold water on her face or something; it was like she was continually fighting drifting off into a haze of Castle-induced sleep.

"Figure you know him."

Beckett spoke in a very offhand way. She found this was best in order to convey the idea that all had already been lost for this third party – he was just an entity. It made those she interrogated, like Mendoza, fear the depersonalisation of their friends or, in this case, family, and led their train of thought onto an image of that person in orange uniform, completely lacking individuality. How, then, would they react to prison? How would they behave? How would they be treated? Most important of all: Would they survive?

Settling onto the corner of the table, hovering over Mendoza, telling him with her stature that she had the power – she could change what was going on in his head – Beckett let him think on those questions and develop that thought trail in his mind, trying to answer them, or at least convince himself of comforting outcomes to them.

At last Diego Mendoza looked up at her.

His gaze was steely; hers was, too. He was trying to decide whether or not to take the plunge. He narrowed his eyes slightly in a hateful way.

Suddenly he shifted his gaze to the mirror. He was no stranger to these rooms; moreover, he was not an idiot; he knew it was a window.

Immediately Kate's heart began to beat faster. Had Mendoza heard something? Could Castle have fallen?

"This is your brother, Mendoza," Gates said coolly. "He's been arrested. He is currently facing huge charges: possession of an unlicensed firearm, possession of a illegal substance, conspiracy to distribute... Not to mention any other altercations the gang task force can pin on him." Mendoza flinched and turned to glare at her. "That's right, they've been following you around. And they'd be so, so happy to charge someone, at last, with the Cazador Crime File."

Gates played Bad Cop well and she was using this opportunity to show that she was in command so that, later, when Beckett offered him a deal, he'd know what she would face in agreeing to its terms and would hence place more trust in her.

Beckett played the submissive detective, lowly in her captain's presence, and used her moment of silence to stand from the table and walk slowly around the room. It implied to Mendoza that she literally revolved around Gates, that there was no way of bypassing her, but, more significantly, it afforded her the opportunity to shoot her most concerned look through the one-way glass, not even knowing if there was a person standing to see it on the other side.

She took a deep, ragged breath; she put her hands in her pockets to hide their anxious shaking.

Her heart beat fast.

**16:15**

Castle knew she was onto him. That look said it all.

She circled the interrogation room desk like a hawk, only filling in Gates's sentences if she was standing right behind the suspect. He flinched each time as she allowed her captain to mentally dissect his younger brother; at least that is what was happening in his mind. Standing behind him only made his human instincts war between focusing on Gates, trying to intimidate her, or turning around to defend his vulnerabilities.

So much Castle had learned in the past four years, but never had he seen such a great team as Kate and Gates.

**16:22**

It sounded like they were finally making some headway with him. Or, rather, it looked that way.

Mendoza had yet to speak, but his face had become sullen, his posture defeated. It merely sounded like a triumph for the girls because they were reaching their climax: the threat of jail time for the vulnerable boy or a simple relaying of information.

Castle was starting not to hear much of it, however.

His breaths had become so sharp and shallow he found himself clutching onto the table behind him for support before he even knew what he was doing. His knees were shaky as he stood on them; it felt like he'd been partying for two days straight – which, incidentally, he had done before – except the pounding headache that came a day later was amplified, and he did not usually encounter any extreme heartburn; by now he was genuinely questioning in his mind whether shoving the pipe of a fire extinguisher down his throat and pulling the trigger would help.

And as his current state deteriorated, Kate became more and more agitated.

Castle could see from here – she started manipulating her hands, playing with her fingers and rubbing her palms, feeling the rise and fall pattern of her metacarpals. She also tucked her hair behind her ear up to four times a minute and her gaze would not settle, though its resounding home seemed to be the mirror.

It was as though she was completely in tune to him.

As his state of health worsened, her need to comfort him became greater, like right now. Rick just couldn't believe that he could be so lucky.

**16:30**

At last, Castle watched Kate sit.

"We can get him out," she near whispered.

There was a long pause in which only the distant hum of the ventilators filled the silence.

"A'ight."

At last – a breakthrough!

Castle was so proud he almost punched the air. Watching his lover crack a suspect was like watching his daughter win a race or a Spelling Bee.

It made him giddy. Or, giddier. Maybe too giddy.

As Kate exited the interrogation room, he weakened further. He knew she was coming for him, but he could not cling onto that thought.

He collapsed.

Out cold.

And all he could see was blackness.

And all he could hear was blankness.

And all he could taste, touch, smell was bareness.

And then there was light.


	12. Chapter 12

**16:40**

_Rush, rush, rush._

_Crash, screech, get an IV!_

_Rush, rush, rush._

_Get her out of here!_

_NO! I am NYPD!_

_I don't care, lady!_

_CASTLE!_

_Rush, rush, rush._

_Castle, I'm here!_

_Get her out of here!_

_Rush, rush, rush._

_Double doors closing._

_Tube him! Scrub up!_

_Silence._

_Rush, rush, rush._

_Scalpel._

_But the morphine – _

_No time!_

_His heart!_

_Rush, rush, rush!_

_Blood!_

_Blood!_

_Blood!_

**17:00**

Cold.

Kate Beckett was so cold.

The hairs on her arms were standing up as she sat gazing at the blank, white wall opposite her. She sat leaning forward on her elbows, resting on her shaky knees, balancing her chin atop her knuckles. When at last she moved it was to duck her head and muss her hair. Then she went back to staring at the wall.

She could not tell how many people walked past her. She didn't know how long it had been. She had not the knowledge of how many doctors had passed whom she could have asked for an update, to which they would have replied "we're doing everything we can," or "he's in safe hands," or "he's stable for now."

Kate did not shed a single tear.

She did not feel.

Numbness consumed her. It was so much worse than pain, for she feared she may never feel again, so encompassing, so gripping, so deadening was that numbness.

She wondered if karma was as bitter as was rumoured.

She'd survived a bullet to the heart, waited too long, and so now another shot had been fired, another bullet, another heart, and now she couldn't have him. She wished it was her heart. He did not deserve this. He did not deserve this from her. She did not deserve him.

Dipping her head again, she rested her forehead against her hands. Tried to feel.

If she'd felt compassion, she knew she would take it back, what she said about her heart, because she knew Castle loved her back and she didn't want to put him through this.

If she'd felt pain, she would have screamed and cried, crippled.

If she'd felt love, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stand.

But she felt nothing.

Nothing. Empty.

But cold.

There was blood on her hands. She'd given CPR. The stitches across his chest had split due to the inevitable infection raging through him.

He'd lied.

But she couldn't even feel resentment. Couldn't even be angry or sad, couldn't apply any of that to a cry of "Why didn't you tell me?"

A cry that didn't come. Wouldn't come.

Her throat was dry, her lips so long still they may have long since fused. She couldn't seem to find her voice.

But she didn't dwell on it.

Kate went back to staring at the wall.

The white wall.

She was so cold.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed and don't hate me for the suspense. Please review. :)_

_KT X_

_Twitter: Green_Tiger_21_


	13. Chapter 13

_Hi everyone,_

_I hope yo're all doing OK and you're enjoying the sunshine - here in the UK we've just had our first glimpse! I'm sorry it has been so long since my last update, but coursework just erupted like an ugly bruise after a punch in the face delivered by January exams. Thankfully, I am so nearly done, and I can leave school when I am supposed to, at 3:30pm, as opposed to 6:30pm._

_Enjoy, guys, and please review. I hope I don't make you too sad!_

_Love always,_

_KT X_

_Twitter: Green_Tiger_21_

_Also: katieupatree can also be found writing FanFictions, usually far more beautiful than this pain I have created, and she has stuck with this story since its beginning, and also with me. I am so grateful to have met her on and to have earned such a wonderful friend as she, so you should all read and review her stories as well!_

* * *

**18:00**

Kate was sat with her elbows propped on her knees when they arrived. She was staring at the wall. The blank, white wall. Plain, pale and emotionless. She felt like a whitewashed wall, for she felt nothing. She remained numb, bar the cold that chilled her very bone marrow. She didn't move. She did not shiver, though she was so cold, and she did not lift her head to the sound of footsteps approaching. She did not even afford a sideways glance when she heard a man call, "Beckett," his voice dripping with relief as though he were worried she would have all but dissolved into the wall behind her by now. Ryan came and sat gently beside her, and still she did not stir. He placed a comforting arm across her shoulders and gently rested his head against hers so his lips were mere millimetres from her ear when he whispered, "He'll be fine, Kate. Look at me – he's safe with these guys." His sandy hair brushed her temple. He took one of her numb hands and grasped it so tightly; he was afraid she'd slip away. She couldn't blame him – she thought she might, too.

Plain, pale and emotionless.

Kevin lightly kissed Kate's forehead and then crouched before her, forcing her eyes to meet with his. "_He'll be fine._" Kate's gaze became lost in the infinite blue pools framed by such long lashes. She saw no pain there. Only worry could be found: the deep-seated concern of a friend. He reached up to touch her cheekbone before resigning; he stood woodenly, with great effort, and his company approached to help him, but he stubbornly committed to independence. Once he'd reached his full height, he smoothed his robe so that it once again concealed the unflattering hospital gown he'd been forced to wear. Ryan again became occupant of the unforgiving plastic chair beside Kate's own, giving his partner a turn at reasoning with her.

"Kate," she said softly, "I know where you are right now, believe me." She sniffed. She was hurting.

At last Kate looked up. Her neck was stiff after the past hour torturing her every bone, nerve and muscle. A big pair of Bambi eyes met hers, framed by flowing blonde hair. Soft hands grasped her own, rough and dry after the searing day, and Kate had to catch her breath. At last she was cracking. She couldn't be sure if that was positive or not: on one hand, the numbness was gratefully slipping away, yet on the other, all it left in its wake was unspeakable pain."Kate," she whispered. She was cracking, too.

"Jenny," Kate breathed, her voice so hoarse it was barely a croak.

The doors creaked again, and heavier footsteps approached. In response to the new entrant, Jenny murmured, "Hey, Javi," and stood for him to fold her into a bear hug.

Kate knew her three friends were worrying about her. She knew they were casting her sideways glances. When Kevin took her hand softly and simply held it, letting it rest atop his palm, she knew they were trying to think of ways to comfort her, to evade her resilience and make it to her heart, where they might have a notable impact. As the three sat to her side, Esposito resorting to dragging a small table across to sit adjacent to Jenny, Kate knew that they were worrying about Castle, too. She knew they wanted to reach out, but that they feared for his life and dreaded the thought of her pain should she lose him; for this she longed to reach out to them, too, to join their communal wish that Castle be OK. But she knew that there were no promises, knew that Ryan's 'He'll be fine,' was just a statement used to soothe her; it could hold no ring of truth and it failed to assert surety with its words. These things she knew. She also knew that she could never be alone, but as only one human being filled her every sense and he was that which she could not have, she'd never felt so isolated, not even having been hanging from a building, because at least then she knew there was _him_. She'd known he loved her. She'd also known she was about to die, and she was scared, but she clung to him in her thoughts and was contented enough to overcome the last brick in her mental wall, which had been more constraining than a noose, and admit that she loved him, too; not only that, but she was _in love _with him. Now it was like the world was mocking her, or like she was part of a tragic novel: the author had given her that which she most wanted for a mere fraction of the expanse of time each life was allotted, before ripping it from her, taking a piece of her soul along with it. With this swimming through her thoughts, she couldn't sit with Kevin, Jenny and Javi and commit to what they did. She felt horribly selfish and hated it, but the idea of joining their circle only brought on the jagged thought of her pain.

Kate turned her head and watched the closed theatre doors. She returned to her rhythm, staring at the walls and listening as doctors and nurses wisped past. She grew tired, so tired that her eyes ached in their sockets and her head began to feel too heavy. She was still cold, which her friends must have noticed for one of them anonymously placed a heavy coat on her shoulders. She didn't move.

When at last Jenny and the boys could take no more, they stood from their places and Jenny came to crouch beside Kate and place a hand on her arm. "We're going to get some coffee, OK sweetie, we'll be back soon. Your dad wanted you to know that he's thinking of you, honey, but when I asked if he was coming he said you needed a different kind of love right now. I hope you know what he means, because I don't," Jenny laughed nervously. "See you in a while," she said after a short pause, because there was nothing else she could have said.

Kate did know what it meant. Her father was politely giving her the space to work through the torture that could only be delivered by Castle, the man she was in love with, because he'd been there and he knew it all too well. She didn't need soft familial love and sympathy, she needed Castle to wake up and kiss her deeply and run his hands through her hair. And Kate felt that one day Jenny would understand, but that for now she was too sweet and caring to differentiate between when she needed love and when she needed Ryan. Kate had heard that Jenny's sisters had come when Kevin was shot, and so Jenny had taken comfort from their presence, understandable. Kate wondered if this perspective she and her dad shared came from already having an aching cavity where the loss of a person had executed more damage than a stray bullet.

Oddly, Kate welcomed the new silence. She realised she'd begun to find solitude in the white expanse ahead of her. It was comforting. It offered her no calming words, as her friends had, but it also showed her no pity. She hated nothing more than to be pitied. She felt it highlighted her weaknesses and she was not happy with being exposed in that way; it also made her feel vulnerable, and that only made her heart beat faster and the muscles in her arms twinge as they instinctively longed to reach for the holster on her hip; that reminded her of PTSD and only being half a person, of stiff drinks and broken glass and blood, of watching the door, close to breaking. She hated pity. And so she stared at the wall across from her, her head resting in her hands and her elbows propped on her knees.

Time passed that could have been mere minutes or several hours before a voice dragged her from her internal war. It was so quiet she thought at first she'd dreamt it, and that forced her to turn and look before she even realised she could move again. "Kate," the voice had said.

Kate stared but didn't speak, nor move.

"Kate!" the voice demanded of her.

When at last Kate's mind caught up, shaking off the cobwebs of what seemed like a century, allowing her rational thought to link the voice and the shock of orange to 'Alexis,' the figure was already approaching.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Alexis almost screamed. "I had to wait for a call from Esposito when you should have called me first! I should have been here! I should have been here the first time! You should have told me!"

Kate sat in completely stunned silence, her eyes wide and her mouth half open. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to say.

Alexis went on. "How would I even have known if he'd died?! Would you have bothered to call me then?! I should have been here for him – didn't you care about that?! Don't you care about us at all?! Don't you care about how I would feel?! You lost your mom – if your dad had been at her hospital bed and he didn't tell you, how would you feel?! If I lost him like you lost her, how could you even live with yourself after not giving me my last seconds with him?!"

Kate's eyes started to sting, but she didn't want to show weakness. She knew Alexis was right, and she knew that simply forgetting to call her like they were supposed to discuss something trivial and inconsequential such as to plan for a morning coffee would haunt her for the rest of her life. Probably for all eternity if they lost him.

Alexis seemed as stunned by her outburst as Kate, and she stood quietly for a moment looking confused. She didn't seem to be waiting for Kate to answer her questions, but she appeared to be asking more of herself.

"I..." Alexis started. "I'm so sorry, I... I don't know what came over me." She looked up and met Kate's eyes.

Those quiet blue orbs were suddenly lit up with noise and Alexis looked like a scared little girl. She behaved as though she'd been the one scalded so violently by words, as though a teacher had yelled at her in elementary school. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

A pause drew out between them. Both of them shifted quietly as Alexis lost her anger, and that loss drew with it Kate's numbness and both were left only with fear and worry and hurt. Such immeasurable hurt. It was reflected in their eyes when they looked at each other, the way their hearts became pierced.

It suddenly became too much and they broke down together, their sobs wracking and their cries so sorrowful that the toughest of criminals would surely blink.

"I'm so sorry," Kate sobbed into Alexis's hair.

Alexis curled up on Kate's lap; Kate crossed her legs so the younger girl could settle between then comfortably. They cuddled each other as a woman does her daughter and her daughter holds on tightly. Each buried her face in the other's shoulder and each whispered little loves and apologies and comforts that neither could hear.

In each other they found what they'd been searching for – Kate for hours now – and they cried together and clung to each other as though they were all that was preventing each other from fading away completely.

When Jenny, Javi and Ryan returned to the short corridor, they silently turned round and returned to the café, for they knew to leave Kate and Alexis in piece with their new bond, formed through agony and terror and anxiety, but also through hope.


	14. Chapter 14

_Hey, guys!_

_I've finished my exams, the sun is shining, and I am HAPPY! It's been so long, but at last I am freed from academic obligation and I'm wearing shorts and watching Castle and life is smooth!  
I hope you like the update, I've been thinking on it all afternoon, searching for the right words; I hope you approve!  
__Much love, always,_

KT X  
( Green_Tiger_21)

_Written with Katie (katieupatree) and Verity (HummingAtNight) in mind, because they are my mascots, my coaches, my fellow fangirls and my best friends._

* * *

**19:00**

Their sense of time had slipped away.

Alexis slept soundly, her arms draped lazily around Kate's neck as her orange hair slid like silk over the supporting arm Kate held across her back; her canvas shoes had been cast away and laid on the too-bright linoleum beneath their chairs, the deep blue acrylic glowing in the waning sunlight slipping through the high, narrow windows above their heads, keeping from them the glory of the setting sun as though in fear it may rouse some emotion, some memory of hands held, hair stroked or lips parted in the fading glow. Kate's free hand clutched Alexis's ankle, her thumb absently tracing circles around the fibular head resting beneath a shroud of pale skin and green socks, so child-like they kept Kate's numbness at bay for she knew she must be strong for this man's child. For her lover's child.

Like Alexis, Kate was very tired. She wished she could sleep, or that sleep would find her, whichever relieving, remedial battle of wills arrived first. Her eyelids drooped, but whenever they slid closed, blackness washing over her, all she could see was Castle as he lunged, as his WRITER vest became stained with blood, that one lucky shot placed prize-winningly between his first and second ribs, his angle as he leapt like a superhero so perfect as to give the projectile a foolproof trail straight to the danger zone.

Kate loved him for his gallantry.

Kate hated him for his foolishness.

Her res eyes set free another tear, which slid slowly down her cheek, following the trail left by many others before it. She allowed her eyelids to flicker, somewhat soothing the ache, but refused to shut them; instead she directed her gaze to the young and pristine face she cradled in her arms, the delicate skin marred by tear streaks not unlike her own.

At last, she allowed herself hope. Hope and prayers and unrelenting faith in she didn't know what.

_Come on, Rick. Come on._

**19:05**

When Ryan, Esposito and Jenny returned, Ryan had been forced into a wheelchair, exhausted, Esposito pushed him, stony-faced, masking his fear, and Jenny was curled up in Ryan's lap, asleep, the day's events, endless worry and impossible fear combining with an overuse of adrenaline finally having taken their toll on her small, fragile frame.

They pushed quietly through the doors into Kate's corridor, white overwhelming them as they emerged from a shadowy passage into this impeccably clean space, splashes of blue all that interrupted the chaste landscape as thin sunlight streamed in, meekly fighting to stay in the room and wash over them all. The silence was so desolate the place seemed devoid of air, yet at the same time so smothering it felt as though they were wading through it, fighting against it. The tension radiating from the tangle of bodies settled in one of the chairs bolted to the wall was almost visible, and so palpable Ryan and Esposito thought they might have cut it with a knife.

Rolling up to where Kate and Alexis sat intertwined, they found that both women were asleep. Kate sat cradling the younger girl, but she had slumped sideways so that their foreheads touched lightly; while Alexis sat as though being carried by her knight, Kate curled into a foetal position, her bent knees resting beneath Alexis's. Because of these awkward but so delicate positions, Esposito was hesitant to move or wake either of them, though they may wake aching.

"Don't," Ryan cautioned quietly.

And so he didn't. He sat on the small table beside the row of chairs, opposite Ryan cradling Jenny, and they waited silently for something to happen.

**19:10**

When it came, they thought they'd been expecting it, but they were irrefutably unprepared.

A white coat finally emerged, his surgical cap clutched in his hands, his face weary and his hairline matted with sweat.

Ryan and Esposito immediately became alert and focused on the surgeon's tired eyes, anxious to hear what he had to say, but at the same time not wanting to hear it. Or, perhaps, just not wanting to hear bad news. Ryan kissed Jenny's temple to comfort himself; she remained sleeping.

"The complications were extensive – his leaving AMA was very compromising."

"Castle," Esposito whispered bitterly.

"We removed the bullet and repaired his heart muscle, which has turned into a cardiomyopathy due to the stress of the surgery. He crashed twice and we revived him. His lungs, thankfully, were not affected by the bullet, but his breathing is strained and he's still intubated. He's also going to be on extremely concentrated antibiotics for a few weeks.

"The surgery was successful, though, and the nurses are moving him right now. You'll be able to see him shortly."

Kevin and his partner shared a long, relieved look before finally and gratefully allowing the breath they'd been holding for the past hour to escape.

**19:15**

While Javi carefully leaned over Kate and Alexis, Kevin woke Jenny with soft kisses on her face and smooth rubs along her back. She stirred delicately and looked up at him with a misty gaze, kissing his lips softly before sitting and jumping off him before she stretched, worried the movement would hurt him.

"Kate," Espo whispered to long, dark eyelashes, the faint particulate mascara catching the light. "Kate," he said again, using his thumb to brush her eyebrow, and ran his hand softly down to her jaw. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she finally came to life, eyelids at first quivering, then opening suddenly to reveal wide and shining eyes, newly rejuvenated, green and brown tones dancing together in complex braids to create a beautiful hazel illusion. She gazed unrelentingly at Javier, knowing there must be news.

"Can I see him?" she asked hoarsely after much deliberation which resulted in the conclusion that this was the safest possible question.

"Yes," Javi whispered, at last breaking into his lovable smile.

Kate mulled that over for a short while, then a tear slid from the corner of her lined eye, this time representing her relief, and she smiled as she let out a sharp breath, trying to hold back elated sobs which broke free only as she woke Alexis with a light shake and stroke of her hair. They grinned and rocked each other, uttering near-hysterical cries of joy that only the other could hear.

**19:20**

Kate and Alexis stood hand in hand, waiting for the nurse to retrieve them; Esposito stood readily behind Ryan's wheelchair a few feet back from them, and Jenny clasped Ryan's hand tightly in hers.

At last she came, her blond hair neatly tamed into a ponytail, and, with a smile, led the way. At first Kate thought they were heading though the double doors she'd been trying to tune out for hours now, but the corridor unexpectedly twisted sharply to the right, and the group was dragged into unwelcome commotion, set far apart from their small window of silent whiteness, where doctors, nurses, patients, visitors and anonymous personnel shuffled across the tiles the way cars and buses and cyclists and pedestrians and yellow cabs fight for rights across Times Square. They navigated their way over to an elevator, which took them to the ICU.

"The doctor asked that you go in one at a time," said the nurse, who stood by to ensure the doctor's wishes were honoured.

Kate and Alexis looked at each other.

"Go," Kate told her.

Alexis smiled, her new love for Kate shining through in her gaze. "We all know who's face is the first he wants to see."

As if for reassurance, Kate glanced at the other faces, who all smiled and nodded encouragingly.

So she turned and approached his bed.

**19:30**

"Castle," Kate whispered, aware that her friends were watching through the glass.

"Rick," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder in comfort for him, but also in the hope that it would help still the violent trembling that overcame her limbs.

More tears persisted to silently traverse her cheek. He was so pale, laying there with a tube protruding from his mouth, so small, covered with flimsy hospital blankets. She'd never seen him so small. She'd seen him run from a dog, scream in response to a curse and whine as she clutched his nose or his ear, but she'd never seen him so small. He was so, so small.

Kate's heart ached as she leaned over and kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his nose. Tears slid from her face to his as she placed her hands firmly over his temples, holding it in place and resting her forehead atop his, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair, her thumbs pulling at the very edges of his eyelids.

"Oh, Rick, you have to be OK. You've come this far, so you have to come through this, OK?" she whispered to him, like a proud coach delivering a pep talk. "You're immature, self-centred and egotistical. You're a jackass for sure. But I need you. Alexis needs you and Martha needs you, but I _need _you. I _love _you. I know I never said it before. And I know I was afraid. But I want you to know that, yeah, I'm afraid of this, afraid right now, but I'm not really scared anymore. I'm not terrified that if I commit to you then you'll hurt me. I'm not scared that loving you would alter my life or affect what I do. I'm not afraid of any of the stupid, petty things that kept me from saying it before. I am unequivocally, immutably, unashamedly in love with you. I love you. And I have never felt better in my life, even though I'm sat here worried about you. I've never felt better. You make me better. You make me feel better, you make me be better. You tell me we've done it before, and with less to go on. You tell me it'll be OK. You tell me that I can do this. And you say that we can do it together. I _need _you, because the me I am today, the good me, is half you. Without you, I'm not me. I need you and I love you and I think about you all the time and when I'm not with you I want to be, so much it hurts and it feels like my heart will burst out of my chest. I love you."

Satisfied with her monologue, Kate touched her face to Rick's once more, kissed his forehead and rose to allow Alexis her turn, but before she could lift her head high enough to remove her hair from his face, a touch on the back of her hand startled her. She looked up, eyes wide, anticipation gnawing at her, and saw his hand. His hand held hers against his face. His huge hand, though week, cradled hers.

Kate grinned and laughed with delight, a warming sound from deep in her chest, a celebration. She leaned in and tightened her grip and kissed him all over, and when she stood again she saw that he was smiling despite the tube and his blue eyes were bright and glowing as ever.

"You hear that?" she asked excitedly.

He gave a short nod, smiling with his eyes.

She laughed again, kissed him one last time and skipped – literally skipped – from the room, folding Alexis into a zealous bear hug before pushing her in to visit her father. She hugged Jenny so hard she was lifted from her feet, and Javi hugged Kate so hard that she was lifted from her feet, and when Kate sat in Ryan's lap and hugged him, none of their feet grazed the ground.

They were overcome by relief, elation and gratitude, and the floor just wasn't unlimited enough.


	15. Chapter 15

Salutations!  
Sorry everyone, it's something of a short one, and not particularly good, but I've been a little distracted by my excitement that I'm going to Austria! I've never been on a plane before and never camped with so many people - 4,000 scouts and guides will be there! So I wish you well, fair friends, as I embark on my journeys. Stay cool.  
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! Written with my mermaid, _katieupatree_, my hummingbird, _HummingAtNight_, and Zanna the lesbian porn writer, _zashaxander/zanna_sk_. I'll miss you, beautiful people!  
KT X  
_Green_Tiger_21_

* * *

**20:02**

Visiting hours ended at eight, and a nurse came promptly to usher them away with a swiftness achievable only by a woman who was permanently impossibly busy; only Alexis was allowed to stay, being immediate family, but before she said goodbye to her friends she thanked them, with all the politeness and sincerity her father, the good man, had raised in her, wished Ryan well, then stepped forward towards Kate. She paused, gazing into hazel eyes and hoping to convey all she was feeling without relying on mere words, and reached forward to embrace Kate quite suddenly, closing her eyes and breathing in her scent, her light perfume reminiscent of summer and bountiful cherry trees. Kate at first appeared startled, but then responded by hugging the redhead tightly to her chest, holding her close and wishing she didn't have to let go. Esposito and the Ryans left them to their moment, and so they stood in the hospital corridor, bathed in harsh, fluorescent light, simply revelling in the warming touch of another which inspired in them unbounded joy: prior to their good news, they'd relied on touch for comfort; now they allowed each others' happiness to wash over them. Kate kissed the crown of Alexis's bright head and stroked her hair before turning abruptly and striding off to the elevator, with a gentle wave goodbye as Alexis turned to her father's room, a light smile blessing her face.

Kate smiled wearily as she left the hospital and met with Esposito, who'd waited for her by his red Crown Vic, checking his emails on his phone.

"Hey," she said, approaching him slowly, her demeanour considerably more relaxed in comparison to the feral cat she'd become as anxiety had claimed her entire sense of self in response to the possibility of unmentionable pain to defend against.

Esposito smiled knowingly, finally able to tease Kate for her outward displays of love and attachment without portraying himself as callous or abrasive; or maybe he told himself this was the reason because he, like the typical man, wanted to prove he was tough, in comparison to his true feelings which were deep concern for his friends. "Need a ride?" he asked, smiling.

"Precinct?"

"Sure," he said.

They stood still for a while, appreciating the cool air as it washed out their lungs, stale and dry thanks to an evening spent cooped up inside; the night was unseasonably warm and they felt refreshed. Their eyes met after a time and they smiled, then Esposito grinned wider, shook his head in disbelief and stepped forward to hug his friend. They laughed, so pure was the relief granted by this weight lifted from their shoulders.

**20:25**

Before Kate could even sit at her desk, Gates summoned her into the glass-panelled office that overlooked the entire floor. While she usually stood across the desk from her captain, she could not help but settle into the couch there with a sigh.

"You look like hell," Gates declared.

Kate looked up and smiled, even eliciting a mirrored expression from old Iron Gates, who Kate had come to learn was softer than she seemed. "Thanks," Kate chuckled.

"I hope you know you're no longer on this case?"

"What? Why?" Kate's eyebrows knitted together.

"Well, you have a very close relationship with a victim who is now in an even less desirable condition than right after the shoot-out. It is now beyond your professional capacity to remain objective." Gates leant against her desk and made gestures with her glasses, pressing the plastic to her bottom lip as she thought.

"Close? I – Castle and I work together, but–"

"Oh, please, detective, you're in love with the man! Anyone could see it!"

Kate was startled into silence. They'd been applying their best efforts to prevent the captain from learning about just how close they were, and here she stood claiming she'd been aware for quite some time. Kate's eyebrows went up and her jaw dropped, so shocked was she, and then her cheeks flushed pink, betraying her.

Gates smiled, which was exactly the opposite reaction to that which Kate had been expecting. "You're exhausted," she said. "Go home and rest. Visiting hours start at ten."

Kate was still stunned. She sat seemingly unable to move, trying to process this invitation. Her first movement was to mash her eyebrows together, which Castle always described as adorable, for which she always chastised him, as he smoothed out the skin with his thumb. She broke into a smile brighter even that Gates's when she remembered once again that Castle could continue to smooth out her eyebrows and refer to her as adorable. She stood and marched purposefully over to her superior, pulling her into a strong hug.

It was now Victoria Gates's turn to be made speechless, so unprecedented was Kate's behaviour, but she welcomed the hug, rubbing her detective's back in a dramatic turn of events as a result of which she became more human, less cyborg.

"Thank you," Kate murmured, her eyes crinkling from the sheer joy of it all.

**20:37**

Kate very nearly skipped from the precinct, though she managed to restrain herself. She did, however, kiss her palm and pat Esposito's head with it as she hurried past, sending him spiralling into a well of confusion.

Everybody was confused. Everybody was acting oddly – they'd all become attached to their mascot without even realising it. Kate, Kevin and Javi were his friends, but even Gates had come to enjoy his company – Officer Hastings raised her hand for a high-five as Kate flitted past her; LT tipped his cap in her direction; the receptionist who begrudgingly took Castle's fan mail – now targeting both "work" and home – even stood to wave Kate out.

It was wonderful to see how he'd impacted everyone around him. Kate could remember when he first arrived, arrogant and egotistical to the extreme, and all around him, including her, could barely stand to hear his voice barrelling into their brains and derailing their train of thought.

And just now look, thought Kate. He was part of the team, part of their team.

Bypassing her own apartment, she ventured to the loft to update Martha, grab a bite to eat and settle in for some sleep, her day having taken far too many unexpected turns for her weary brain to handle much more.

**20:45**

Martha was elated when Kate arrived, pulling her into one of those colourful shawls as she hugged her. So many hugs today, Kate thought. She also thought that each of them was warranted.

The redhead sat patiently and listened intently as Kate recounted the day's events, proving to be something of a therapist as she offered unbiased comments and asked questions that required Kate to expand upon her thoughts or emotions. When she was done, Martha thanked Kate and expressed how glad she was to hear that "you're both alright," before they both shuffled off to bed, Martha climbing the stairs gracefully and Kate flipping the deadlock as she went past, knowing that Alexis would stay the night with her father.

In Rick's bedroom, Kate breathed in his scent and thanked some divine power she'd sworn she'd never believe in for bringing him through this, even if it was a selfish thanks from bringing him through this straight to her.

She pulled on one of his T-Shirts, the cotton soft against her skin, and clambered straight into bed. For sure this was the most complicated day she'd faced in a very long time, and she was grateful to at last be surrounded by warmth and comfort, but she still wanted more: she wanted Rick by her side, especially on this night.

Then she amended that. There were no special nights, no significantly outstanding evenings in their lives together.

She's want him by her side always.


End file.
